


The Soft Fall

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cape Caem, F/M, Ignis and Monica are secondary characters but are not seen, M/M, Noctis is also referenced a fair bit, PTSD, all promdyn and iris/ardyn is referenced only, hey look guys I wrote something hopeful, post-game setting, recovery fic, references to rape and abuse, soft fic, this story has continuity with God Complex and Lolita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: A bit of soul-searching for Prompto and Iris in the wake of Ardyn's death. Because some people do understand what it's like to face down that darkness, and some wounds will heal.Also, there's beaches and mojitos.For FFXV Rarepairs week





	The Soft Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyProto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyProto/gifts).



> This one-shot is set in a world where both the events of LadyProto's _Lolita_ series and my _God Complex_ series took place. Prompto and Iris are two sides of the same coin, in a way, I mean, personality-wise they are incredibly similar, and I love the idea that they are there for each other in the post-endgame world.
> 
> Also the title is based on The Soft Fall by dEUS

‘How can you even stand to talk about it?’

           They sat together on the beach just outside Cape Caem. Down by the rocks, where the sea spray scattered soft cooling droplets over their skin at regular intervals, where the smell of salt and seaweed mixed with the floral scents drifting down from the clifftop garden. Wildflowers and poppies and orchids and gentianas – the latter was an addition from Prompto himself. Something with meaning. Something to remind them of the people that helped them along the way.

           Iris sighed softly, breast rising and falling as the cool breeze danced around them. She stretched out, taut arms pulling into motion. She was so battle-hardened these days, muscles so well-defined, enough strength to rival Prompto’s own, but he thought she still retained a softness he lacked. His scars felt ugly. No, stop that thought, because he knew she felt the same about her own. And still… she wasn’t as sharp-edged as she feared.

           Ugh, how did they both get so messed up?

           ‘I – I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘It doesn’t make me feel good. But I… ah.’

           He didn’t know how to continue. He didn’t want to make it awkward, but it sometimes got like this whenever they spoke of Ardyn. He tried again to articulate his clustered thoughts.

           ‘If I don’t, it… well, I just start drinking again. Promised Iggy I’d stop.’

           A small intake of breath on her part.

           ‘I’m sorry.’

           ‘Don’t be.’

           They fell back against the rocks, soaking up the sun, slaves to the warmth. Summer always felt so gentle that it was almost cruel. Like he’d wake up any minute and he’d be under Ardyn’s grasp. He guessed she felt the same.

           This was one of those rare lulls in between jobs. Iris the Daemon Hunter, her services no longer required in the post-Darkness world, had taken to courier services and special item hunting – basically anything that required someone capable of traversing dangerous beast-ridden terrain. Because beasts were still threat enough to make ordinary citizens cower in fear.

           ‘Hey,’ Iris said, soft voice interrupting the whistling wind. ‘Can I ask you?’ She waited for him to nod before continuing. ‘What do people say to you about it? When they find out what he did?’

           He furrowed his brows, squinted at the horizon where the sunlight danced on water like liquid mercury. She had brought up the subject, then she had shied away from it, and now she was asking again. No, he understood. It was complicated. And not like he wasn’t a confusing mess himself: he did manage to act so calm sometimes, despite what went on inside his head.

           ‘Eh, usually they give me that look. You know the one. Like they’re looking at some sad puppy that’s just been abandoned. They think I’m so tragic.’ He stopped, plucked some loose sand idly from a hollow in the rock, sent it scattering to the wind. ‘Why, what do they say to you?’

           ‘Some girl asked me if I liked it.’

           ‘What, seriously?’

           She shrugged. ‘Yeah. Because he was attractive and I didn’t say no enough.’

           He recoiled, so palpably he could feel the stretch and strain across his skin. And he thought about how sick he’d feel if someone suggested the same thing to him. He shivered.

           ‘Well I didn’t say no towards the end either. I mean, what was the point? Wouldn’t have made a difference.’ Prompto stopped, breathed deep. That train of thought was just making him sad. ‘Anyway, he always was good at that. Manipulation. Coercion.’

           A mass of writhing emotion was hiding under the surface like the sea kelp just metres from the shore before them. _Forgive him. Hate him. Think about how attractive he was. How weak you were. Empathise with him; he just wanted affection. Affection – give him that, why not? You’d get peace that way, like you wanted. Heh, he wanted peace too. But you can’t have peace any more – so why not burn everything instead? Lash out. It’s hopeless. You’re broken._

           The thoughts stopped when he looked back at Iris. She looked so sad and yet she was so radiant. So pure. He didn’t think she was broken. He couldn’t turn those conflicting thoughts on her. Kind of hypocritical, really.

           There were just so many of the damn intrusive thoughts. Astrals, if he felt like this despite the numbers of people around him who said he was so good and kind and never deserved any of it, he couldn’t imagine how she felt. He wanted to soften the hard edges.

           ‘But, Iris…’ He turned to face her, ignoring the shiver still coursing through his bones. ‘He played us – all of us – like puppets. Me, you, Gladio… Noctis… I’m sorry, I know you already know this, but… It wasn’t your fault.’

           She reached a hand out, stroked over his bared wrist, over the black branded lines. Every time she did this he felt a surge of something like happiness because they felt calm enough around each other to touch. To show affection.

           The site of the tattoo had always been sensitive, and he used to hate it. Until Iris had touched him the first time. That had been so many years ago now, but it never got old to feel it again. Touches that were _wanted_ , from someone who knew what _unwanted_ felt like. It meant the world to him.

           They stared together at the seascape before them. Melted into it. Feeling both wonderful and shattered at the same time.

           ‘I kind of wanna jump in,’ said Iris.

           He grinned. Now _that_ sounded like fun. Summery. Happy. Images of school break and endless evenings and bright futures flooded his mind. His parents giving him enough allowance for beach trip supplies. Going shopping for swimming trunks with Noctis. Heading to the small beaches just outside the city. Forgetting his suncream.

           Then she said, ‘Yeah. Get _clean._ Would feel good, I think.’

           Oh.

           This wasn’t a distraction; she was still thinking about _him._ Still feeling all poison-in-the-veins, that familiar gravity well that was so difficult to escape from. He understood.

           He thought about the seaweed below the surface, all cloying and dark tendrils, and suddenly he didn’t want her to dive in. He flashed a glance her way, and not for the first time, he was caught off guard. By the Six, she was just so beautiful, how could anyone even imagine hurting her?

           It would be too easy to tell her she was already clean. That she wasn’t tainted, no matter how close she’d gotten to the daemons. No matter how close she’d gotten to _him,_ the fallen King that she, as a Shieldmaiden of Lucis, had been so cruelly manipulated into serving. It would be too easy, and the words would come out too empty. So instead, he said, ‘Hey, next time you’re free we should set up a barbeque down here on the rocks. Go for a swim. Get Gladio to join.’

           She beamed, bright as the sun.

           ‘Hah, that sounds great.’

           Prompto scanned the rocks. The sun had now passed its zenith and the stew he’d left on the stove would need some attention soon.

           ‘You know, I should really pick up some Darkshell molluscs before we head back. Ignis said he’d teach me something new.’

           ‘I’m so proud of you,’ Iris murmured. She toyed with her boot laces, redid them a couple of times idly. ‘Everything about that lighthouse. Monica would’ve been proud too.’

           A glow settled in Prompto’s stomach at these words. He was trying. And now, the lighthouse was something of a popular tourist spot. He cooked, tended to the garden and served up fresh vegetables almost every day. He was really proud of being the first person to get Ulwaat berries to grow on this continent. Perhaps Noct would have liked that. And he hadn’t nailed down the pastry recipe yet, but like Ignis, he supposed he’d just keep trying.

           The people that visited the lighthouse seemed to like it, at any rate. And that restaurant owner who’d first traded with them before they’d left for Altissia had been joined by ever-increasing numbers until now Prompto had built up a veritable trade network for his produce. Weskham, the old dog, still ran the Maagho in Altissia and even he had been impressed.

           Things really weren’t all that bad. It was a life with meaning, and he couldn’t really ask for more. It was just times like this, with Iris, the only other person left alive who _understood_ what it was like to be plagued by that particular brand of darkness beneath the sheets when all the world was asleep.

           ‘Thanks, Iris,’ he said, and he squeezed her hand again. He felt utterly comfortable. Felt like there was hope, and that was nice.

           Something rustled in the bushes behind them and in a flash Prompto had grabbed the small daggers that lay by his side, moved effortlessly into a crouch close to the ground, eyes scanning behind him.

           ‘Hey, it’s just a bird.’ Iris’s voice, full of forced calmness, stilling his nerves. And there, the gull that had caused the sound broke from its cover with a shrill cry, wheeling out over the rocks. False alarm.

           He smiled apologetically. He hadn’t wanted to worry her.

           ‘Agh, that’s embarrassing.’ He replaced the daggers by his side, shook his hands out, breathed calmly. After a while, when the jumpiness had faded and the sense of deep safety had returned, he told her. ‘I worry that people think I’m weak for being caught like I was.’

           ‘Mm.’ Iris didn’t elaborate, just sat there silently. Pondering. So Prompto continued.

           ‘But we’re not, you know. Weak, that is. Master Daemon Hunter.’ A smile teased at the corners of his mouth, wry and warm, and it was infectious. Iris grinned back.

           ‘Well. Can’t spend forever under the sun.’ Iris stood up, sorted her skirt. ‘Ah, back to it, I guess.’

           ‘Back to your adventuring. Pick up some EXP for me, ‘kay?’ Gaming jokes sounded extra childlike coming from his tired and drawn face, but it never failed to make Iris laugh.

           ‘Yeah, right. I’m just a glorified delivery girl, really.’ Her laugh petered out and she sighed again, sounding twice her age.

           ‘Don’t say that.’ He grinned. ‘Even if it’s sort of true.’ Then his expression fell, he could feel the downturn of his mouth and he didn’t want to look so serious but there it was. ‘At least… stay one more night before you go.’

           Her eyes closed as she breathed in the summer scents. Stilled her soul before the weight of reality came down upon it again. She looked, for a moment, as serene as Gentiana herself used to be, and Prompto had long since stopped taking photos, but he wondered briefly if Gentiana still watched over them. If she would ever turn up in the background again like the protective deity she was. Honestly, he had stopped with that hobby because he was scared Noctis might start turning up in the photos too, so he guessed he would never find out.

           ‘Yeah,’ she said, after a long while. ‘That sounds really nice.’

           Prompto clapped his hands together.

           ‘Hah, awesome! I got some mint that’s just ready to harvest. Was thinking of making mojitos. Well, faux-jitos for me.’

           ‘Faux-jitos… Oh my god, Prom.’ She fell about laughing, and he felt incredibly pleased with himself. _Awful jokes… my specialty!_

           ‘So - you in?’

           ‘Are you kidding? Of course!’

           He grinned. Stood up, joined her at the top of the rock outcrop. The molluscs could wait.

           She took his hand as they walked back up to the lighthouse, leaving the seaweed to languish below the waves. The sun was bright and the lighthouse spelled out safety and the summer could perhaps be the way it was when they were young, because they weren’t alone. Those soft touches meant everything.

_They weren’t alone._


End file.
